Hard Handling
by JenKristo
Summary: Ratchet has a hand fetish and no one has the patience to give his hands the attention he desires. Little does he know, the one who everyone thinks is a prude could be the bot to fulfill his fantasy. Ratchet/Optimus Prime Slash
1. The Storage Room

Note: Filling a prompt: Ratchet has a hands fetish. It's all Ratchet/Bee in this intro chapter, but the story is Ratchet/Optimus in coming chapters.

Bumblebee sat astride Ratchet, taking his finger deep in his mouth. Ratchet grunted and bucked up against the smaller bot's aft, eliciting a moan. Even with his spike rubbing against the little bot, the medic's mind was totally focused on his finger as Bee pulled it in and out of his mouth. What could he say? Medics had sensitive hands.

The door suddenly opened and light flooded into the storage room. Bee and Ratchet jumped with surprise as Optimus Prime looked down at them. They stumbled and shifted around, trying to make the scene a little less explicit to their leader's eyes. But the blue and red bot looked down at them with as much interest as he did when Sparkplug bent over and split his pants.

"Sorry Optimus," Ratchet said with chagrin. Bee apologized similarly.

But by then Optimus was looking up at a shelf, his posture as straight and formal as usual. "It's no problem. I'm just looking for a spare part for Ironhide. Let's see…"

Ratchet and Bee sat frozen, not quite in their previous position and not really separated either. It wasn't the first time Optimus had walked in on a pair of bots interfacing around the base, and some of those times Ratchet was involved. He should have been used to it, but Ratchet was mortified now for being caught by his friend with the youngest of the autobots.

Optimus Prime ran his finger up and down the front of his faceplate as he scanned the shelves. Ratchet watched Optimus' fingers glide up and down over the metal, suddenly fantasizing that it was his own fingers pressing against Optimus' faceplate. He knew it was wrong to fantasize about his friend that way, but hand stimulation just drove him wild. It was a rare sight to see his leader with his faceplate pulled back, and so it made the fantasy even greater as he imagined the bot exposing his face and taking his thumb into his mouth.

He was pulled out of the fantasy when Bumblebee elbowed him. He leaned over and whispered for Ratchet to do something. Apparently the young bot was feeling worse than he was. Their leader seemed to be searching for eons.

"What are you looking for?" Ratchet finally asked.

"Hide needs a new cannon shaft. His current shaft is bent and his aim is off. I'm sure you know what a beast that's made him into."

Ratchet chuckled and turned to his side, grabbing a box from the shelf behind him. "Right here, Optimus."

"Oh, thank you. I'll be going then. Have a good evening."

The door shut and Bee blew air from his circulation vent. "Primus, I thought he'd never leave! How could he just leave us hanging like that? I thought he'd take forever."

Ratchet frowned. "Well this is the storage room after all. It's not like he barged into one of our personal quarters." He wished he hadn't agreed to Bee's idea to fool around here.

"Whatever," Bumblebee said as he sat back on top of Ratchet. "Let's get this going."

"Sounds good to me." Ratchet circled his thumb around the corner of Bee's mouth, but he moved his head away.

"Enough with the fingers," Bee said with exasperation. He was obviously stressed from being caught in the act. "I just want to get on with this."

Ratchet sighed, knowing his hands weren't getting anymore loving tonight. "Actually I think I'm just going to go. That interruption ruined the mood and I'm not feeling like it anymore." He grinned at the little bot. "It was definitely getting good though."

Bee pouted. "Well promise we'll take a rain check. Everyone says you're a stud when you're in the mood."

Ratchet resisted telling him he could get back in the mood if Bee would just play with his damn hands a little longer. It was a shame no one had the patience to satiate his little kink.

"I hate being the only one who hasn't had a piece of you," Bee continued, "I mean, except Optimus Prime of course." He laughed. "I don't think anyone has the wheels to put their hands on him."

Ratchet grinned and patted Bee on the aft, but Bee had reminded him of Optimus. Now he couldn't stop thinking about getting his hands under that faceplate.

To be continued…

I'll give you a cannon shaft for your thoughts on this.


	2. The Medical Bay

2

Ratchet heard them coming from across the base. He'd gotten out his emergency tools in a rush to prepare for whatever the cause of the shouting was. Someone was hurt. The medical bay doors slid open and in came the crowd, all muddy from an outdoor battle. Optimus Prime walked in, surrounded by the others, all fussing over him as he covered his faceplate with his hand. Jazz and Prowl were so closely walking ahead that Prime looked ready to trip, and Bee and Sunstreaker were stepping on his heels from behind. At least Ironhide could keep a little composure as he stomped after the group, knocking mud all over the floor. Ratchet sighed, glad that their leader could at least walk.

"What's happened?" he asked. They all began to talk at once and Ratchet frowned. "I'm sorry I don't speak garble. Optimus, what's wrong with your face?"

Ironhide responded for him. "Megatron punched him in the face so hard that it dented his armor."

Optimus removed his hand so Ratchet could see the damage. Sure enough, the plate was crushed up against his face, and kind of looked like a fist. Prowl reached to touch the dent and Optimus swatted him away. He stood with his back straight and his fists on his hips. He attempted to speak, but it sounded like he was talking through a pillow.

Ratchet laughed. "Optimus, I just told you I couldn't speak garble."

Optimus began garble-speaking even louder, waving his hands around and giving the thumbs-up in an attempt to say he was alright. The others laughed with Ratchet as he pushed the bent bot over to an examination table. "Just sit down and I'll fix you up."

The crowd followed him to the table and watched as Ratchet examined the faceplate, tracing his finger expertly over the lines of the dent, studying the top edge. It seemed to be digging into Optimus' face a good deal. It had to hurt or at least be uncomfortable.

He caught Optimus' blue gaze for a moment, surprised that the bot had been looking at him. The moment ended as Jazz spoke up. "Are you going to be able to fix it?"

"You'll have to replace it, won't you?" Bee added.

That's when Ratchet realized their concern had a good amount of curiosity mixed into it. "You all just want to see his face, don't you?" he teased, and the group responded with outraged embarrassment. He knew he wasn't one to talk. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the leader of the autobots with his mask removed. But he worked it, and managed to get the crowd out of the room.

"And Ironhide, you better come back later and mop up this mess!" Ratchet shouted after them at the door. "Yeah, I saw you stomping your feet! Don't lie."

He returned to Optimus with the tools he needed and began to tinker with the faceplate. Optimus sighed.

"Rough battle?" Ratchet asked. Optimus shook his head a little. "Oh wait, I bet it's all the attention that wore you out, isn't it?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Ah, here we go." The faceplate split open in the front and detached on either side.

"Thank you," he responded, rubbing his face. "They were so worried and I wanted to tell them I was fine. For goodness sake, it was only a punch in the face."

Ratchet chuckled as he set the mangled metal to the side. "Only you would say that, you know."

Optimus watched him as he took out some spare facial parts from his store and began adjusting them to custom fit. A comfortable silence filled the room for a while.

"It's incredible what you can do with your hands." The leader of the autobots was innocently looking down at the metal he was holding. "You must be so dexterous to adjust metal like that. I thought you used a press."

Ratchet smirked at the ego-boost. "Well, you know. After you're in a profession long enough the little things are effortless. I'm sure you understand, being an old model like me." Optimus smiled wide, showing off his shiny white dentals. Ratchet looked at him with surprise, knowing he was wrong about Optimus being an old model. What a face! "Wow, you're a regular poster-bot." Ratchet's jaw dropped as he realized what he'd just said. Nobody talked to Optimus Prime that way. No one even knew how he would react to such treatment.

Prime's smile softened and he seemed only slightly bashful. "You're a good friend for saying such a thing. But there's nothing like the talent you have. Here." Optimus stood and turned Ratchet to sit on the table instead. He took his left hand and began to rub his palm.

Ratchet's air valve hitched. "What… what are you doing?"

"I'm giving you a well-deserved hand-rub. Just relax and let someone else take care of you for a change."

"Well I uh…" Ratchet could barely form words as Optimus worked on his hand. He pressed the medic's palm open and then stretched each finger, putting pressure on the inner cables as he loosened the joints. It felt incredible. He grabbed Ratchet's index finger and pulled, sliding his hand away until the finger was free. Then he moved to the second and then to the third.

Ratchet felt heat begin to build in his engine. By the time Optimus had begun on his other hand, he was on fire inside. His fans whirred as they tried to cool him.

Optimus looked at him for a moment. "Am I doing a lousy job? Should I stop?"

"NO! I mean, no it's fine. You can keep going."

Ratchet bit his lip. He should have told him to stop. After all, too much longer and his spike would push right out in the open.

"Well look at that," Optimus said as he peered at Ratchet's index finger. "I think you have a piece of gravel wedged in the joint there. You don't feel that?"

"No. Where?"

"Let me just get it out," Optimus said, scratching at Ratchet's third knuckle. The sensation sent tingles down his posterior. "Gosh, it's really stuck. I'll just…" He bent forward and pressed his upper dentals gently into Ratchet's knuckle. Ratchet felt his interface panel shudder. He knew he couldn't let this continue.

"Don't worry about it I'll…"

Optimus had pressed his mouth over the knuckle, sucking in an attempt to remove the stone. Ratchet felt the pressure of his mouth, his glossa sliding over him. His interface panel slid open exposing his spike. Optimus looked down at it for the longest single second of Ratchet's life.

Then his eyes slid up to meet Ratchet's and he took his finger in his mouth. The smallest curve appeared in the corner of Optimus' lips. "You're doing this on purpose?" Ratchet said, utter disbelief overwhelming him. This wasn't happening. It couldn't happen.

Optimus' smile fell and he pulled Ratchet's finger out of his mouth. He watched him, keeping the hand so close that Ratchet could feel the wetness on his fingers growing cool from the air escaping Prime's oral vent. The slightly younger bot was cold then, and Ratchet realized he wasn't going to share the 'what' and 'why' of his actions. Ratchet would have to take it or leave it. He decided to take it.

He pressed his thumb against Optimus' mouth, and he opened. Ratchet let out an uncontrollable moan as Optimus took his whole thumb, slowly pumping it in and out of his mouth. His glossa pressed against the seams of his knuckles, dentals gently brushing as he moved. Ratchet grabbed Optimus' hip with his other hand, pulling him close to press the bot against his spike. He was already so close; it would only take a few thrusts to make him blow. In the midst of his ecstasy he felt disappointment that the other's interface panel was only slightly warm. But it was pushed to the back of his mind as he gripped Optimus' aft and bucked against him. Optimus took his index and middle finger in his mouth at once and Ratchet overloaded onto the other's stomach.

"Oh frag," Ratchet grunted, his forehead pressed against Optimus'. Optimus had a playful smile on his mouth as he kept the tip of Ratchet's index between his lips. "Well that was… unexpected."

"I'm assuming 'unexpected' means it was good?" Optimus inquired.

"Yes, definitely yes. But um, it didn't seem that way for you."

"I have my own kink. But that's why I know some kinks need a little extra time."

Ratchet couldn't help but smile appreciatively. No one, not ever, had done something like this for him. He slid off the table and went to a drawer to find linen. Optimus followed and leaned his hip against the counter. He dabbed his finger in the corner of the rosy lubricants on his stomach. Optimus reached for the linen but Ratchet pressed it against his stomach himself.

"Please allow me," he said, smiling as he cleaned the other. "You seem very relaxed."

"I suppose I am."

"Why did you do that?" Ratchet finally had to ask.

Optimus looked at him. "It's pretty simple. I like your demeanor. You're casual and personable, two traits that have never come naturally to me."

"You seem pretty casual now."

"You must be rubbing off on me, Ratchet."

The door slid open and Ironhide stepped in with a bot-sized mop and bucket. Ratchet hastily stuffed the dirty linen back in the drawer. Optimus' posture almost instantly straightened back to normal. "What's taking so long? Are you done with him yet?"

"We're almost finished." Under his breath he mumbled about forgetting to lock the door.

"Well I'm here to clean up my supposed mess. You're taking forever and I'm not coming back, so you'll have to deal with me while you work."

Ratchet sighed and led Optimus back to the table. He lifted the faceplate pieces and pressed them to the sides of the bot's jaw, listening closely for the electronic chirping sounds of the faceplate connecting correctly. Optimus closed the new faceplate and tapped it with a finger.

"Better than new."

"I'll miss seeing you without it," Ratchet said with his voice low. Ironhide was still across the room. "What do you think about taking this to my quarters?"

Optimus looked away. "I can't. Spike asked to meet with me today. That will be in ten minutes. I should be going."

Something suddenly dawned on Ratchet. "Hold on, did you say before that you had a kink of your own?"

"I don't know, did I?" Optimus played. He walked toward the door.

"Optimus, what about the rock?" Ratchet shouted after him. "Was the rock even real?"

"I think you know," Optimus called without looking back. The door shut behind him.

"What's all this about a rock?" Ironhide asked. Ratchet just shook his head.

To be continued…

I'll give you a faceplate for your thoughts on this chapter.


	3. The Dark Hallway

3

"No really, what's with the rock?" Ironhide asked.

Ratchet sighed and walked over to the larger bot. "We were just talking philosophy, it was nothing."

"In that case, thank Primus I didn't hear. I would have been bored to rust. Meaning of life and all that scrap. Lemme tell you my meaning of life. Blowing shit up." Ironhide glanced at Ratchet. "You look a little disheveled. Did you frag somebody this morning?"

Ratchet was glad he was the only one who had internal status scanners. If Ironhide had them, he'd know instantly that Ratchet had just overloaded. "No, I've been in the med bay all day, just getting things done."

"Well you know what I say about fragging. It's as healthy as a cup of energon in the morning, and just as important."

Ratchet sat on the counter and watched Ironhide rant and mop the floor. He flexed his fingers and thought about how relaxed they felt, how relaxed _he _felt. He leaned back a little, lacing his fingers together on his lap. "Ironhide, I need your opinion."

"If it's philosophy then count me out."

"No, I need your opinion on something regarding interfacing." Ironhide stopped mopping and gave Ratchet his attention. "What would be your ideal sparkmate?"

"That's easy. I'd want someone who'd try my crazy fantasies and be awesome at it." Ratchet slapped his forehead. "And," Ironhide continued, "They'd have to be fun and smart too, like a best friend type. I like being able to face with whoever I want, but if I had to be stuck with one bot, they'd be like that."

Ratchet nodded. That description sounded pretty on-the-mark to him.

"You know," Ironhide continued, leaning on the mop, "I consider you one of my best friends." Ratchet's eyes shot up to the other bot. "And you're a real giver in the berth." Ironhide watched Ratchet fidget for a moment, then laughed. "Too bad you have that freakish thing with your hands. I don't have the patience for that."

"You're such a tool," Ratchet said, looking at his hands.

"Why? Are you looking for a mate?" Ironhide asked skeptically as he finished mopping. "I thought you liked getting around."

"I do!" Ratchet said. "But I mean, if I thought I actually liked somebody I wouldn't ignore it."

"Wait," Ironhide said, "Did someone… Has someone actually been able to satisfy that bizarre kink of yours?"

"It's not bizarre. And yeah, maybe somebody has!"

"I can read you processor, you know. Somebody finally satisfied you, so obviously they're _perfect_."

"It's not like that, you scrap heap. It's more like, if I saw a bot trying something on him I'd put a pedal in their aft."

Ironhide frowned. "Who haven't you seen fragging somebody else?"

Ratchet immediately realized his mistake. There was only one bot among them that hadn't been with at least two of the others. Ratchet tried to cover himself. "I mean in the future, if I saw someone."

"What makes you think he's more interested in you than the other bots?"

'_Because he doesn't interface with the other bots,'_ Ratchet thought. "I don't know," he said. "Just a feeling." Ratchet stood and headed for the door.

"Still, don't get ahead of yourself. I know you're ready to combine sparks, but have a little self-control."

"Go slag yourself."

Ratchet stomped toward his quarters. Bumblebee caught him in the hall.

"Hey there, doctor." Bee said playfully. Ratchet stomped past him. Bee tagged along. "What's wrong with you, sour-circuit?"

"I've got a lot on my mind."

Bumblebee finally stopped following when he realized he wasn't going to be able to distract the older bot.

Ratchet paced around his personal quarters, his processor spinning. Why had Optimus come onto him? He was dead sure this had never happened to someone else. Word got around fast with the bots, and with his internal sensors he would have picked up on it even faster.

He'd said he liked Ratchet's demeanor. That had nothing to do with interfacing, but maybe Optimus was the type whose attraction was from character traits instead of physical design. Then again, Ratchet didn't think anyone liked him for his design. The first bot he'd slammed had gone and told everyone how great it was, and from there he didn't have to do much else.

Ratchet flopped on his berth. He raised his hands and growled. "This is your fault," he said to them. He thought about the other day when Optimus had walked in on him and Bumblebee. That must have been when Optimus figured out his fetish. Bee had a mouthful of finger when their leader had barged in. It had been that simple, Optimus had tested his suspicion with the rock farce.

Ratchet dimmed his optics, and almost immediately he fell offline.

He dreamed that he was back in the storage room with Bumblebee, and Optimus was walking in on them. But this time instead of feeling embarrassed, it revved him up even more.

Bee smiled at Optimus. "Care to join us?"

Ratchet whispered at the smaller bot furiously. "What are you doing?"

But Bumblebee had already gotten up and grabbed Optimus by the hand to pull him over. "I really shouldn't," Optimus objected, but Bumblebee was strong in Ratchet's dream and had no trouble encouraging the Prime to kneel in front of Ratchet where he sat.

"You know what to do now," Bee said, and Optimus took Ratchet's hand. He opened his faceplate and bent forward, sliding his glossa over Ratchet's palm. Vibrations raked Ratchet's body at the sensation. "Give him a little more," Bee encouraged, and Optimus took Ratchet's middle finger in his mouth. Ratchet could feel his oral interior, hot and lubricated. Optimus kept his optics shut as he pumped him, and Ratchet could practically feel it in his Spike. He pressed against Optimus' interface panel, which was, like before, still only lukewarm. Optimus' eyes opened at the touch. As he looked up at Ratchet, all the sensation disappeared from his hands. He was left with nothing but the inadequate feeling of not being able to reciprocate the pleasure.

"What can I do?" he pleaded to Optimus.

Optimus took Ratchet's finger from his mouth and slammed his faceplate shut. "There's nothing you can do."

Ratchet woke with a start, sitting up in his berth and gasping. He checked his internal clock. It was already evening. He left his quarters and headed for the main room, hoping to find the night owls. He couldn't be alone with himself anymore.

Ratchet was pleasantly surprised to find the place busy. Half the bots were still up, happily chattering and laughing with one another. Optimus had returned with Spike as well. Ratchet caught the bot's eye from across the room, and Optimus turned away. He was quickly heading for the opposite hall.

"Hey wait!" Ratchet called, but Optimus blatantly ignored him. The bots looked at him with slight worry as he crossed the room.

Spike, who was as perceptive to transformers' behavior as a brick, smiled and waved. "Hey Ratchet, what's the rush? Optimus and I just got back a minute ago. Can I talk to you for a second?"

Ratchet ignored him and followed Optimus down the opposite hall. "I'm sorry Ratchet," Optimus called back. "I'm exhausted. We can talk tomorrow." Optimus spoke from far down the hall, walking hastily to avoid Ratchet.

"Well, just stop for a minute!" Ratchet said, his confusion increasing as the other avoided him. He sped up, and finally within range, his internal scanners picked up on the other bot and automatically scanned him.

Optimus had just overloaded.

Ratchet stopped following, and when Optimus realized he'd been caught, he stopped running. His shoulders sagged in defeat. "What in the… How is that possible? You just got back." Realization dawned on Ratchet and his face couldn't hide his horror. "The human?"

Optimus looked back at him as Ratchet approached the taller bot. "I can't believe it. That's your fetish?"

"Ratchet, please."

"You've got a thing for humans?"

"No I… I don't. I…" But Optimus couldn't finish. He looked away with embarrassment.

"I can't even…" Ratchet said, anger building in his system. "That's why you don't frag around. None of us could come close to interesting you."

"That isn't true," Optimus said, trying to cover the discontent in his vocals. "I overloaded you, didn't I?"

"That's what I can't figure out! Why would you do that, knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to reciprocate? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I suppose I didn't think about it," Optimus said, his vocals forced to stay at a low level. "You fool around with the other bots, completely aware of how hard it is for them to please you. But it's grossly wrong for me to do the same to you?"

Ratchet's air valve caught for a moment. He had never shouted at Optimus Prime this way before, but he couldn't stop now. "My fetish is nothing like your sick xenophilia!"

Optimus shoved him out of the way, turning back the way they had come. "I've had enough of this," he said.

To be continued.

If you review, Ironhide will talk to you about your feelings for five whole minutes.


	4. The Ravine

4

Optimus stormed back into the main room where the other bots were. "I'm going for a drive," he announced.

"Oh, then could you drive me home?" Spike asked cautiously. He had finally caught onto the negativity.

Optimus turned to the boy and transformed. "Get in."

Ratchet came into the room just as Optimus drove out, and the others looked at him questioningly.

"What the hell were you two fighting about?" Prowl asked. "We could hear shouting down the hall."

"What's gotten into you, yelling at the Big Rig like that?" Bee asked.

Ironhide shoved through the others. "Ratchet," he said, his optics wide with disbelief, "Does this have something to do with what we talked about?"

Ratchet put his hands up defensively, ignoring the questions. "Where is Optimus going?"

"He's taking Spike home," Prowl said.

Ratchet's engine roared uncontrollably. He had to find out exactly what was going on with those two. He wanted to know just what the boy did that fired up Optimus Prime. He transformed and sped off.

Rain was pouring in gusts over the land. Flooded water had washed mud over the road, spraying across Ratchet's sides as he drove. The road had become bumpy as small rocks were shifted with the flow. It sat alongside a ravine, making it more precarious to speed around turns. Ratchet ignored the condition as he raced forward, determined to catch up with them. He turned on his internal detector, searching for the other. But who knew if the Prime had his scrambler on. He'd slow if he found them, but beyond that he had no plans. He just had to drive.

With a loud pop, one of Ratchet's tires blew out from a rock. He began to fishtail out of control, and finally flipped. He tumbled down into the darkness of the ravine. In a desperate attempt to slow the fall, Ratchet tried to transform. He flipped through the transformation, his leg smashing against a jutting boulder. He could feel the cables tearing, hydraulics popping as his leg was mangled. And then came the final blow as he was stopped short by a rocky wall. He felt the wall impact his spark chamber, his head cracking against the stone.

He fell flat against his back, water flooding around him. His optics tripped in and out of focus and finally went dark.

….

A white light pierced through the dark water. Ratchet opened his optics, but was blinded by the pair of high-beams. Arms pulled him from the water. "Ratchet! Ratchet, come online!" he heard a familiar voice. His processor was too corrupted to respond. The other wrapped their arms around him, grunting as they pulled Ratchet up. The autobot struggled to pull him up the ravine, all the while his leg throbbing as it was dragged. Rain continued to pour, and more than once the two began to slide back down again.

Ratchet offlined, and when he onlined he was inside a small, dark compartment. Vaguely he could sense that the compartment was moving, and thought that it could be the trailer of a truck… _the _truck.

"I don't know if he's alright," he heard the voice say in a low tone. "I'm not sure. I'll figure something out." The voice was speaking to someone he couldn't hear. "Spike," the voice said, "You have to stop moving around. Just stop. Put your hands in your lap and sit still... No, it's fine. Just stay like that… I know, I'm worried about him too."

Ratchet offlined again.

The next time Ratchet onlined, the atmosphere was a deal more peaceful and his processor seemed to be functioning normally. The room was 68 degrees Fahrenheit, and smelled of medicine. He knew where he was. There was a soft purr from the refrigerator which held some of his more important spare parts. Ratchet knew what he'd have to do, though he was far from wanting it due to how exhausted he felt. Finally, he forced himself to move. Luckily he could feel his legs, all the way down to his pedals. It didn't feel good though.

"He's awake!" someone shouted beside him. Ratchet turned toward the voice and opened his optics. Ironhide looked at him with delight. "How are you feeling?"

"Like scrap, what do you think?"

Ironhide frowned. "You're too tired for sarcasm. That's not good."

"What's going on? What happened?"

"You fell off a cliff like an idiot. Prime had to carry your broken aft all the way back here. Primus, you should have seen him when he got back; mud pouring out of his vents and jamming his circuits."

Ratchet raised an arm to cover his face as he remembered what had happened before he raced into the rain. He felt like such a giant idiot, Ironhide had no idea how right he was.

The others rushed in and crowded around Ratchet as he sat up. He glared down at his replacement leg. It was a little short for him and guaranteed to cause him pain for not fitting right. It would take a while for Ratchet fix his own leg, if they even had it. He winced as pain throbbed in his processor.

"Ratchet, you're awake! Thank Primus!" Sunstreaker cheered. The others agreed and spoke similarly.

"We went through so much to get you to wake up. You've got no idea," Prowl said.

"You should have seen what Optimus did," Bumblebee said.

Ratchet looked up at mention of Optimus' name. He was behind the crowd, standing in the doorway. Optimus' faceplate was open, but it didn't help Ratchet read his blank expression any better. Optimus turned and left. Ratchet sighed, the pit of his engine turning.

"So, what did he do, then?" Ratchet asked.

"Oh you should have seen him!" Bumblebee said. "In that battle, Optimus was supposed to be running at Megatron, you know how they're always targeting each other instead of anyone else, but instead he…"

"Wait, there was a battle? How long have I been in stasis?"

"Eleven days," Prowl said.

"But how'd we get into a fight so quickly? That isn't normal."

"_We_ initiated the attack for once!" Bumblebee said with excitement.

Ironhide shoved Bumblebee to the side. "I have to tell this story."

"Why?" Bee complained.

"Because I hate the sound of your voice." Bee's jaw dropped, but Ironhide was already focused on the medic. "Anyway, Optimus had us send out a broadcast on the news about a big oil spill. None of us understood, because there was no spill. But of course the decepticons intercepted the news and raced to the supposed location, where we were waiting for them. The whole time we were all lost, because Prime had only told us to fight and defend ourselves, and that it would save you."

Ratchet looked around at his friends as they smiled at him, and knew he owed them more than he'd ever admit.

"When the cons get there, we charge at them. But to everyone's surprise, Optimus doesn't charge at Megatron like he usually does. Just as Starscream takes a low dive, Optimus leaps up and swipes the sucker right out of the sky! It was incredible. He flung him to the ground by a wing! The con transformed and tried to get away, but Optimus had him pinned in a second. He whipped out his blade and cracked open the con's spark chamber with one swipe!"

"It was so epic, you have no idea!" Bee cut in. "He was like a ninja!"

"Shut up, Bee!" Ironhide growled. "So Megatron freezes up, stops short like he's hit a force field. We all stopped fighting out of surprise, all of us and the cons too. Optimus shouts and I quote exactly, 'Lend us your medic immediately, or I will cut the spark out of this con!' He gave Megatron three seconds to decide, not even enough time to make a cutting remark. I kind of thought he'd wait until the last second or just let the con die, but he agreed immediately." Ironhide exchanged glances with the others. "From Megatron's reaction, we think Starscream might be his mate. How trippy would that be?"

Ratchet couldn't have given less of a shit about decepticon gossip. "You're telling me a decepticon medic had his hands on me?"

Prowl chimed in. "He fixed your damaged spark chamber, closed the breach in your processor shell and replaced your leg." Ratchet wrapped his arms around himself, appalled from the idea of a decepticon touching him. He glanced at his leg like it was a decepticon. "All it took was for Optimus to go 'shattered glass' on the cons."

"I bet he hated being like that," Ratchet said, "It's so unlike him."

A few of the bots nodded in agreement. Soon Ironhide shooed out the group and came back to Ratchet. "Now, you have to tell me what's going on with you and Prime. What was that fight about?"

Ratchet narrowed his optics. "Don't you have any sympathy for the sick? Couldn't you just say, 'you need some rest' and leave me alone?"

"You had eleven days to rest and now you're fine. Tell me what happened."

Ratchet sighed and decided to explain the situation, leaving out exactly what Prime's fetish was. He needed someone's support now before he made any more colossally stupid decisions.

"You told him the fetish was sick?"

"I know, I overreacted so badly. I just didn't know what to do at the thought that I couldn't… That I couldn't do anything for him."

Ironhide was lost in thought. "I can't believe you called Optimus Prime 'sick'. Even if the fetish _is_ sick."

"I know. I can't believe I said it either. And his fetish isn't sick, it's just… unusual."

Ironhide kept staring at Ratchet. "Optimus Prime did something interfacial. I just can't imagine it."

"I can," Ratchet said with regret. "And he was amazing at it."

"You fragged up so badly, brother."

"I know. I feel like a piece of shit. I need to apologize."

Ironhide smirked. "I wouldn't bother."

"Why not?"

"Two days ago someone finally got the nuts to ask Prime what you and he had fought about. Prime said that if you didn't come back online, then it wouldn't matter. But if you did, all that matters is that Prime would kick your aft if you ever spoke to him again."

Ratchet buried his aching head in his hands. "Frag my life."

To be continued…

I'll give you Ratchet's missing leg for your thoughts.


	5. The Beautiful Day

Big thanks for all of the reviews! They help me write the story better, and faster!

5

The mud had all dried up over the next two weeks, as a pattern of blue-sky and cloudless days continued. The decepticons hadn't been heard of since Prime's frightening stunt, so the autobots were generally relaxed. They found plenty of trivial errands to do with the spare time. Considering their species' attraction to shiny things, it was no surprise they gravitated to waxing and buffering everything in sight, themselves and the base.

The days which were so tranquil to most of the autobots were a slow hell for Ratchet. He, Bumblebee and Ironhide worked together to scrub off the dried mud from the left side of the base entrance. It was a job Ratchet wouldn't have minded if not for the group scrubbing the right side of the entrance. Sunstreaker and Prowl worked with Optimus, and Spike and his father were with them as well. They were laughing about something, and from here Ratchet could see Optimus' big charming smile.

"Who knew Optimus Prime was such a stunner," Bee murmured, obviously looking at the same thing Ratchet was.

"Oh for Primus' sake, go and work over there and stop ogling," Ironhide said.

"Thanks!" Bee said as he trotted over to the other side.

"I can smell your jealous sulking from over here," Ironhide complained. "I miss the snide-humored, promiscuous, fun medic you used to be."

Ratchet ignored him. "It's amazing. He stops wearing his faceplate and everyone is all over him."

"Everyone always liked Prime."

"I know that."

Ironhide smirked. "But now they want to frag him too. That winning smile of his makes him a lot more approachable." Bee was talking to Optimus, pointing to something higher up on the wall. Optimus lifted the little bot onto his shoulder and the yellow bot began to scrub the spot. "It must bother you even more that it was Spike's idea for him to show his face more often."

"Hide, please shut up."

"I wouldn't mind getting a piece of that aft myself!" Ironhide teased. Ratchet shoved Ironhide, which was like shoving a wall. Ironhide laughed, finally bringing a smile to Ratchet's face. "Shove me, will you?" Ironhide roared. He grabbed Ratchet, smacking him against the wall and pinning his arms behind him.

"I always forget how strong you are!" Ratchet croaked.

"I'm not done with you yet, you bot-shoving maniac." Ironhide lifted the bucket of filthy, soapy water and raised it over Ratchet's head.

"You better not!" Ratchet roared, but the end of his sentence was nothing but a gurgle as Ironhide dumped the water on him. Ratchet proceeded to chase Ironhide with the hose. He was having a good time for the first time in a while. He paused when he noticed Optimus looking at him curiously. Optimus looked away quickly, and Ratchet sighed. For the first time Ratchet felt that whatever happened between them was really, truly over, and from now on he would just have to make things normal again. He wasn't sure how he could do it.

His optics travelled lower as Spike started to walk his way. "Hey Ratchet!"

Ratchet frowned at the little human, so Ironhide spoke for him. "What's up, little man?"

"I was just going to ask Ratchet if he could talk to me about something later."

Ratchet thought back to his fight with Optimus. Spike had asked him if he had a moment to talk then as well. "You wanted to ask something a while back too, didn't you?"

"Yeah, it's the same thing. So can we?"

"Can't you just say it now?" Ratchet complained. Spike looked uncomfortable. Ratchet glanced up at Optimus, who was watching them with a confused look on his face. He looked down at Spike with a smile. "Sorry Spike. How about I come inside now and talk to you?"

Spike's spirit lifted. "That would be great!"

Ratchet's reasons for going along with the kid were very mixed. Part of him wanted to see if he could make Optimus jealous by being friendly with his human. Another part of him wanted to be civil to the boy because he was something Optimus cared about. Even if he thought the kid was as smart as a brick and annoying too. A third, craftier part of him wanted to see if he could find out anything about their relationship. He was sure Spike didn't know what had conspired between the two bots.

"So about that thing," Spike began as they reached the end of the hall and walked toward the med bay. "I think Optimus might be sick."

"Sick?" Ratchet said with surprise. "I would know if someone was sick around here."

"No, I don't mean he's sick like, really sick, just a long-lasting little kind of sick."

Ratchet wanted to kick the kid, he was just so dumb. "Can you explain?"

"Well, I think there's something wrong with his insides. I really like hanging out with Optimus. He's my best friend. But it's hard sometimes when he takes me on rides, because the inside of his cab is really sensitive. Like, he is always asking me to sit still."

Ratchet recalled riding in Optimus' trailer after the fall. He'd heard Optimus ask Spike to stop moving around. Finally remembering this made Ratchet think.

"And when I want to change the radio station," Spike continued, "he tells me to ask what station I want instead of me pressing the buttons myself. And if I touch certain parts of him he practically swerves off the road, then he scolds me! It's getting ridiculous and I can barely ride with him anymore."

The gears in Ratchet's processor literally spun as he understood. He looked at the boy with the greatest interest. "Do you remember the night that Optimus and I had a little argument?" _…and Optimus came home after overloading._

Spike looked embarrassed. "Sure I do."

"Can you tell me what happened with you and Optimus before you two came back? Was he acting funny then too?"

Spike nodded. "Oh yeah, that's why I finally decided to talk to you. It was so bad. I was eating Wendy's while we were driving and I accidentally spilled my chocolate frosty on his seat and floor."

Ratchet winced. The idea of a human eating in his alt form was disgusting, and spilling a drink? He'd die instantly. Optimus was a martyr for not killing the kid. "And?"

"And when I went to clean it up with the napkins, Optimus freaked out. He told me to stop and that he'd clean it up later, but come on! I had the napkins in my hand and I didn't see the point. He started swerving a little when I cleaned up the floor, and he kept asking me to stop. I feel bad I didn't but I was so embarrassed that I spilled the frosty. I kept cleaning and when I started scrubbing his upholstery, he just exploded!"

"Did he?" Ratchet said with wicked fascination.

"Yeah, his engine just blew and he drove off the road and stopped short. It was so scary. I think I really hurt him."

Ratchet stopped walking and leaned against the wall. He wished he were there for that moment. All of his previous desire flooded back, and he so badly wished he could have the red and blue bot. He felt guiltier than ever for the things he said to Optimus.

"So is there something you can do to make him less sensitive?"

Ratchet looked at the boy with shock. "You're asking me to take away Optimus' sensitivity?"

Spiked nodded enthusiastically. Ratchet couldn't believe what the boy was asking for. Of course it was possible. There was a procedure where one could disconnect the nerves from any part of the body, but things like that were only performed by decepticon medics. The procedure was grossly immoral and horrific. It was considered a type of torture. Spike smiled at him naively.

Ratchet knew his chance with Optimus was over. He'd have to move on, but at least he could go out with a bang. There was one last thing he could do for the bot he wanted so badly.

"I can't help you, I'm sorry. But there is something you can do yourself."

"Really?"

"Yes," Ratchet lied. "You have to desensitize him yourself. You need to get his engine to explode again, as many times as you can. Eventually he won't be bothered if you move around anymore."

"That's such a good idea. Thank you so much, Ratchet!"

Spike ran off toward the exit, and Ratchet smiled to himself. This was going to be great.

To be continued…

I'll give you a chocolate frosty for your thoughts.


	6. The Fireworks

Last chapter!

6

Bumblebee was restless, and Ratchet could only assume it was due to the lack of reciprocation on Optimus' part. Poor Bee had flirted his spark out over the last two days, and still Ratchet sensed no overload from him. So he had returned to trying to get Ratchet in the berth.

Ratchet leaned against the wall in the main hall, trying to be interested in the little bot's philandering. He would have rather gone outside with Ironhide, who was preparing to send off outstandingly oversized fireworks for one of the humans' holidays. Not that Ironhide cared about Independence Day, but any excuse to explode something was a good excuse. But here Ratchet was, making an attempt to move on.

He wished Optimus had never come onto him in the first place. He wouldn't be going through all of this torture, wanting Optimus to put Ratchet's fingers in his mouth again, wanting to push the bot down and frag him wherever he saw him next, wanting Optimus to stretch the cables in his hands so affectionately as he had that day, wanting to open his faceplate to see him smile, or just plain wanting him.

"So Prime is out with Spike again today, which means we won't be interrupted if we want to use the storage room again," Bee said.

Ratchet commended his efforts, but that was the last thing he wanted to hear. He smiled anyway. "Alright, that sounds like a plan."

Bee grinned and grabbed Ratchet's hand, pulling him toward the storage room. But the bots paused to look as the door opened on the far end of the room. Optimus walked in, looking wobbly at the knee joints. He looked disturbed, as if he'd seen something he didn't want to. He leaned against the frame of the doorway to support his weak knees. That's when he looked over and noticed them. His optics narrowed and his faceplate closed.

"Ratchet!" he roared, stomping over to them. Ratchet's sensors went off. Optimus reeked of a recent overload. "Get in there!" he shouted, and Ratchet quickly stepped into the storage room. Optimus slammed the door, leaving a confused Bee alone in the hall.

Optimus paced around the small space they were in. Ratchet's hands fidgeted nervously, waiting for Optimus to explode. Part of him wanted to laugh at the prank he had pulled, but most of him just wished he hadn't done it.

Optimus paced tirelessly. When he finally spoke, his voice had calmed. "For you to go and do something like this, it _should _confirm that you are truly not partial to me."

Ratchet had not expected this reaction. But Optimus was a thinker, so of course he would try to come up with a logical reason behind Ratchet's actions. Once again Ratchet had fragged himself.

Optimus spoke with a weakness in his voice, "But I've been wanting otherwise for so long. I just cannot move on until I hear it from you. So you must say it, that you have no interest in me. You must put my thoughts to rest." He stopped and looked at Ratchet sullenly.

"I'm sorry," Ratchet replied. Optimus' optics fell to the floor. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I've been such a porthole. I talk down to the bots all the time, but I've never treated anyone so badly before. I was just so mad that I couldn't rev you the way you could me."

"It's understandable," Optimus said. "That's why I've refrained from this sort of thing for so long. I should not have done it."

"Why did you, then?"

Optimus glanced up at Ratchet. "I've always known you had a difficult fetish from overhearing the others, but I hadn't known what it was until I walked in on you here. When I realized that it wasn't as hopeless as mine, I just couldn't help trying to… fulfill it." The atmosphere was heavy in the storage closet. "Well I should go." Optimus turned and reached for the knob.

"Wait," Ratchet said, grabbing Optimus' shoulder from behind. "There's just one more thing." He pressed the taller bot against the door, slipping his hands to Optimus' sides.

"Wha.."

As his fingers located two well-hidden clasps, Ratchet whispered quietly to the other mech. "This is something only a medic would know." He pressed the clasps one way and then another and Optimus' chest cracked open. It was only slightly, but enough for Ratchet to slide his hands in the sides, into the interior of the bot's cab. Optimus' intakes hitched sharply and he braced his hands against the door. "See, your design keeps you from opening from typical contact, but medics need to know how to open a bot to perform surgery. But now, it's performing a different function."

Optimus put a hand over his faceplate, but he couldn't stifle his moan. Ratchet slid his hands along Optimus' dashboard. He slipped down to the underside of the dash, pressing down on Optimus' gas pedal. His engine roared.

Ratchet slid his hands around, experimenting, finding his weak points. He slid his fingers across the soft upholstery and Optimus whimpered. His back arched, which pressed his aft against Ratchet's interface panel. Ratchet rubbed harder against the driver's seat as he pulled his left hand out and touched Optimus. He smiled against the Optimus' back as he felt the heat in the other bot's interface panel.

"Can you open up for me?"

Meanwhile on the other side of the door, Bumblebee and half the bots were listening with shock and curiosity. "I guess that fight before was some kind of lover's spat," Prowl said with surprise.

Sunstreaker nodded. "Ratchet has always been such a Casanova and Optimus a stone-cold fox. Who would have known Optimus would go for him?"

"He doesn't sound very stone-cold in there," Bee whispered sullenly.

"What's everyone standing around for?" Ironhide said on the other side of the room. He was holding two gigantic rockets. All of the bots furiously shushed him in unison. They beckoned him over and he pressed his audio to the door to listen.

"Oh Primus," Ironhide said as he heard moaning and hard pounding behind the door. "They're definitely fragging in there."

"No shit, Shiftlock," Bee said unhappily.

"Well I have fireworks to set off," Ironhide said, heading outside again. "Any of you coming?"

The other bots sighed and followed along, knowing how much Ironhide had been looking forward to the evening. No doubt there would be plenty of spying to do in the future.

Inside the storage room, the temperature was extreme. The two bots' engines worked in maximum overdrive, their fans roaring to cool them. They had moved to the floor, Optimus sprawled on his back as Ratchet thrust into him. All the while Optimus lavished his hand with attention, licking and sucking and dragging his dentals across the hyper-sensitive metal. Ratchet's weight was settled against Optimus' chest, his other hand slipped inside as he stroked the red leather interior. Optimus' whimper was music to his audios. Ratchet had no idea how long it had been since Optimus had last interfaced, or if he ever had at all. But he was incredible despite his inexperience. Ratchet supposed it just took some imagination.

"I'm so close," Optimus whispered against Ratchet's hand. Ratchet moved his hand away so he could kiss the mech beneath him. The taller bot wrapped his legs tighter around the medic. Ratchet rubbed hard against the leather upholstery and Optimus arched up, his body shaking with the force of the overload. The feel of it triggered Ratchet, waves of heat and vibration ripping over him. The room shook from the fireworks exploding outside, flashes of color lighting up the storage room through the small window.

Ratchet slid to the side and they both lay there, panting as their fans whirred madly. "How did you…" Optimus panted, "How did you overload? I wasn't doing anything to your hands."

"I don't know. I was just so into you I forgot about it. That's never happened before." Optimus smiled, reaching over and lacing his fingers with Ratchet's. He rubbed Ratchet's hand with his thumb, the sensation causing Ratchet to audibly sigh. Ratchet laughed. "Are you being sweet or are you trying to seduce me again?"

"I'm not sure," he responded with a grin. Optimus sat up against an elbow as he explored Ratchet's chest plating, shoulders, arms, legs… "It's strange. I've wanted to touch you for so long, it's surreal that I'm actually doing it."

Ratchet's optics had closed as he enjoyed the sensation of Optimus' hands moving over him. "I have no complaints," he said.

The room shook again as a deep boom exploded outside. Purple and yellow fireworks exploded outdoors, the color flashing into the room. It brought the two mechs a little closer to Earth.

"Would you latch me up?" Optimus asked. "I'm not sure how you opened me in the first place."

Ratchet obliged, sitting up and closing Optimus up from behind. The small space that had been opened on Optimus' sides was sealed. "This must be the most unusual fetish I've ever heard of," Ratchet said. "Interior fetish?"

"I've been calling it an upholstery fetish," Optimus said. "I'm sure you imagined some others?"

"Oh yeah. I was laughing around the idea that you had a foot fetish, and we could be the dynamic hand-and-foot duo." Optimus laughed. "Or I thought it could be something like domination or role playing."

Optimus' blue optics lit up. "I would try those." He looked at Ratchet mischievously. "Would you let me dominate you?"

Ratchet bit his lip. "I actually fantasized about it when I was trying to guess your fetish. It's never been my thing, but with you?" Ratchet whistled. "Honestly, I think anything would rev me up if it were with you." Ratchet frowned, "Primus that sounded so sappy."

"You're losing your edge," Optimus said as he opened the storage room door.

Ratchet followed with a shrug. "As long as you don't tell."

Fin

I will give you a bonus chapter for your thoughts.


	7. The Horrific Wendy's Frosty Spill of 84

Bonus Chapter: Optimus' side of the horrific Wendy's Frosty Spill of 84.

Spike hung his arm out the driver's window as they drove down the empty desert road. He surfed his hand in the wind, up and down as he enjoyed the drag. Optimus was relaxed too, his engine humming as they sped. Moments like this were nice to spend with a friend, but Optimus knew it could go bad all too easily. At least Spike was preoccupied with the wind at present, and wasn't moving around.

When they entered the last town before base, Spike pulled his hand inside. "Optimus, do you think we have time for me to get a bite?"

Optimus thought about it. He'd been having trouble getting the Autobots assembled for a meeting on time, and had given a speech on tardiness at the end of the last meeting. He felt like such a stickler when he had to lecture the bots, especially with Ratchet and Ironhide teasing the offenders. It would look very bad if he himself was late for the next meeting. But he'd never say no to his little friend Spike's needs. As much as he disliked what he was about to do, there was no escape.

"Of course, but you'll have to…" Optimus choked internally on the words. "You'll have to eat on the road."

"Really? You never let me do that! Okay," he looked at the passing restaurants, "Let's go to Wendy's."

A few minutes later Spike returned with a bag and a drink, jumping into the cab with a bounce in his step. His backside landed on Optimus' seat with a bounce too, causing the mech to shiver.

"Oops," the boy said, "I always forget you're sensitive. You must have some kind of robot skin condition, huh?"

"Perhaps," Optimus said with a grumble. At least Spike was outstandingly far off in his assumptions. It was better he thought the mech had a condition than to know he was sitting inside of Optimus' sweet spot.

Spike set the bag on the passenger seat, and Optimus felt the heat from the contents warming him. That felt excellent too.

"Um, Optimus?"

"Oh, my apologize. I was distracted."

Optimus pulled out of the four parking spaces he'd been taking up horizontally and left town. The next part of the journey was far less appealing. More shredded lettuce dropped onto his seat, cold and clammy against the leather. Crumbs fell here and there, and Optimus felt desperate to get into the shower room and power-wash his insides. Spike took a suck at the frosty he was drinking, a half-eaten burger in the other hand. Optimus had turned on the radio in an attempt to distract himself from the mess being made. And Primus bless the kid, he was trying so hard to be tidy.

"Mmm, I love this song!" Spike said, and he put his drink between his knees to free a hand. He reached for the dial on the stereo. The feel of his denim sliding forward, rough in comparison to Optimus' smooth red leather was unbearable. Optimus' whole alt-form shuddered as Spike took his volume knob between two fingers and turned it.

"Oh Primus," Optimus blurted out.

"Crap I forgot that bothers you!" Spike said, yanking his hand away from the radio.

"Ungh it's fine," Optimus tried to say to make the boy feel better. "Just let me know what you want and I'll do it for you."

"Yeah I guess hands-free radio is pretty sweet," Spike said positively. He began to sing along. "You got the touch, you got the power! When all hell's breakin' loose, you'll be riding the eye of the storm!" He reached into the bag on the passenger seat to pull out a few fries. The paper brushing against Optimus was excruciatingly good.

On the way to his mouth, a stray fry fell down and bounced on the floor. In an instant a series of monstrous events occurred. The fry fell. "Oops," Spike said, leaning forward to grab it. That's when the drink slipped from between his knees, the top-heavy cup swinging backward, the lid slipping open to dump ice-cold chocolate frosty all over the driver's seat and floor carpeting.

"Woh!" Optimus said, his alt-form jerking roughly from the icy sensation, like an ice cube down a human's shirt, as the prank went. From the hot bag to the icy drink, it was erotic torture.

"Oh my god I am so sorry!" Spike said, leaning over and pulling out a wad of napkins from the bag.

"N-no don't clean it," Optimus cringed, all of the sensations already unbearable. His engines were so hot; he drove faster hoping to suck in more air to cool him. He felt tremors far and few between, but slowly and steadily increasing, increasing somewhere he did not want to go with a human inside.

"Oh but I can't leave this mess," Spike said as he threw down half the napkins onto the floor carpeting.

"Don't," Optimus said, ecstasy creeping in the back of his vocals.

Spike began to wipe down the mess, each stroke sending Optimus swerving a different direction. "I know, I know, but I've almost got it," Spike said, trying to be sensitive to the bogus condition. Optimus did everything in his power to suppress the moans fighting to escape his muted vocals. He'd completely silenced them now, not trusting himself to speak normally.

"I'm almost done," Spike said as he wiped off his lap, then scooted back to wipe off the seat between his legs. He rubbed hard back and forth, quick jerks against the rosy leather. Optimus' sensors were hitting the top. Oh sweet Primus and all the sparks in the Allspark, please don't stop now…

Optimus saw stars as he overloaded, his engine roaring and screeching, his wheels tearing up the pavement as he rocketed down the highway. He slid off the road in a daze, came back quickly and braked as hard as he could. Desert dust blew up in a cloud behind them as they slid to a stop. Spike smacked back against the seat, his arms gripping the inside of the cab like he was preparing to die. There was a moment of silence before the air blew out of his lungs.

"Optimus, are you okay? Jesus you need to see Ratchet about this, this is serious…" and he yapped on and on as Optimus sat on the side of the road, unable to do anything but relish the bliss he was in. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he couldn't online his alt-optics. In a nanosecond he would recover and apologize and make excuses and rush to the meeting, but for this nanosecond, the crisis was his to enjoy.

Author's note:

Sorry! The delay was due to my inability to be satisfied with my bonus chapter. Then someone made a request that sparked this and voila!

I didn't expect such a turnout for my first transformers fic. I'm happy people approved. So many people offered good ideas for Optimus' kink, but I was set on finding a kink that was inhuman.

So thanks again, and don't forget to transform and review!


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